


Dead Flowers

by dopeyjoe



Category: David Bowie (Musician), The Rolling Stones
Genre: M/M, anon request
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dopeyjoe/pseuds/dopeyjoe
Summary: During the recording sessions of Black And Blue in 1975, David pays Mick a visit at the Strargroves manor.
Relationships: David Bowie/Mick Jagger
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Dead Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This has been due for MONTHS and it’s STILL not ready but I feel like I owe it to the anon and all of my patient tumblr followers to at least post the first half that is actually ready. The other half is coming... don’t know when, but one day. I hope this was worth the wait.

You wouldn’t think it to be a cold morning by glancing out the window. The sky was pleasantly blue, and the countryside that stretched out around the manor had began to grow green again in the soft light of early May. His face ached nastily as his eyes struggled open, and righfully so. Mick had a talent for getting on the last nerve of everyone he was in contact with, and most times it was Charlie who couldn’t take it any longer. It had been like that the day before, the drummer had politely nodded, glanced down at his neat leather shoes, and thrown a singular punch that knocked Mick down against the padded wall of the recording studio downstairs. His nose didn’t even bleed, but the wedding ring on Charlie’s finger did dig into Mick’s eye in a way that broke a vein pretty badly.  
And Keith had yelled ”What the fuck, Charlie?”, and Ronnie had just sipped his drink in silence, getting ready to quietly slip away if the situation was to escalate. He hadn’t been there long enough to know how to act when the originals started bickering. Bill hadn’t been at the studio anymore when it all went down, he had left early to drive back home while it was still light out. Charlie was the polite one of the bunch, and it was always a treat to see him lose his cool. But why had he lost it the previous night?  
As always, it was all Mick. Everything was always all Mick. This time it was about the drums on Hand of Fate. Because apparently the drummer didn’t have a say in shit in this band. And Mick had told Charlie to ”pack his shit and get the fuck out of Stargroves”, and suddenly the singer was laying half blind against the wall with Keith yelling in the background.  
But now it was the next morning, and Charlie had left last night, but not because Mick asked him to, that was for sure.  
He stretched his limbs out on the king sized bed like a cat, sunlight on his skin. But it was a cold morning, very cold. And for a moment there he forgot about David, who was supposed to come over to look at some lyrics on Station to Station now that he was passing trough Hampshire. He would be staying for one night.

”Mick?” A knock, and a voice that sounded very dead and very flat interrupted the way Mick was slowly drifting back to sleep.  
”Fuck off Keith!”  
”I would, and I will, but Dave’s here. I’m gonna go out, don’t want to hear you two fucking trough the thin walls.”  
And as soon as he had appeared behind the door, Keith’s footsteps faded as he walked back down the hall.  
”Don’t call him Dave…” Mick muttered to himself as he ran his fingers trough his long hair. His cheekbone and eye were aching, he couldn’t open it all the way up, it was so swollen. But at that point he didn’t really care if he was attractive enough for David, because he was so full of it at that point. He knew he had enoug sex appeal to satisfy entire nations.  
Eventually he did scramble up, not bothering to even change to day clothes. He was wearing blue striped pajama trousers, sickly skinny chest on full display. It was cold, yes, but maybe he wanted to dramatically yet casually walk down the near victorian style stairs to the lobby with his long hair falling onto his naked shoulders for David to see. He constantly felt like a king- and it was terribly irritating for everyone who knew him to constantly watch him choking on his own dick.  
Taking a long look at himself trough the mirror, he stared at the massive and swollen black eye for a moment. It would have been hot in some odd way if it wasn’t for the way his lid had puffed up to look like a goddamn plum. He pressed two fingers softly on the black and blue skin under his right eye. It hurt, but he pulled on his lid a bit to see the full damage; Charlie’s ring had cut him not far from his iris, the blood made half of his eye look almost demonic. It was quite fitting, he was compared to the devil pretty often after all.

Hoping he wasn’t too late with that dramatic entrance, he rushed out to the hallway, bare feet cold on the hardwood floor. Not wanting to look desperate in case David came up from behind a corner or something, he kept himself from running by doing a classy speedwalk. And just as he reached the stairs, he could see a familiar figure already climbing them up; his hair was like fire, slick and smoothly combed. He was wearing a navy blue button up, and he carried his suitcase with a crouched back.   
”David, love!” Mick’s voice rang on the high walls as he stopped on his tracks on top of the stairs, watching as the younger man struggled up.  
”Good to see you, Mick.” His voice was off, it was too soft. Tired. Something was going on and Mick didn’t like not knowing what it was exactly. David didn’t even set down the suitcase to hug him as he would have normally. God, he hadn’t even noticed the black eye. Not getting the attention he was craving was always kind of hard for Mick.  
”Jesus, what happened to your face?” There it was, finally. David had reached the top of the stairs, but just as Mick had expected, didn’t halt for a greeting. He just kept walking up the hall, expecting his host to keep up.  
”You can ask Charlie, he was the one being a bitch.” Mick’s voice had once again gone a little mumbly.  
”Knowing Charlie, I highly doubt that.” Came the snarky answer.  
Mick just huffed out a bit of air in some half assed annoyance, and after twenty seconds of David struggling with his luggage, they reached one of the spare bedrooms just next door to Mick’s.  
Opening the door for his guest, Mick watched as David dragged himself inside. It was a nice little room with it’s own bathroom, a window with a pretty view of the spring green countryside, and a petite dark oak piano by the wall. David had stayed there a couple of times before, it was very familar to him.  
”Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” He asked, and something about the way he was that day was absent and airy.  
”Sure.” Mick’s voice mimiced the emptiness of David’s, but the younger man didn’t even notice. He was very tired as he threw the suitcase on the edge of the bed and zipped it open to rummage trough it for a towel. He just wanted to clean himself up and take a nap, eat a good dinner with an old friend, catch up on whatever was going on with the Stones, and finally have a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed instead of a bumpy hotel mattress for once.  
”You can borrow one of mine, we got plenty of towels.” Mick suggested, but at that point David had already found what he was looking for.  
”No need.” He said, polite as always, pulling out the fabric as he turned on his heels to face the bathroom door. Mick watched him as he went, wondering how if the day had been different from the very moment both of them had opened their eyes, he could be walking in trough that door with David right now. He could be getting on his knees in the roomy tub, and he could be making good use of those huge lips of his.  
As he sat down on the edge of the bed, he began to wonder how long it had been since they last fucked. Months, that was for sure. They had both kept busy with their own projects, and anyway, David had moved to New York last year and spent most of his time in there, while Mick staid home in England. And he wondered if David ever missed him up there. Probably not, he had plenty other mouths around his cock after all, plenty other cocks up his ass.  
But Mick did miss him every once in a while. It wasn’t like he’d ever tell David that anyway.  
He listened to the shower being turned on in the next room over, wondering if David had locked the door. Should he check? Probably not. They hadn’t seen each other in months, David had seemed tired and he didn’t want to overstep, and he wasn’t in a mood for shower sex anyway. Letting go of the lingering idea of David’s naked body gleaming wet in the sunlight that poured trough the bathroom window, he focused his thoughts back on what was in front of him. Having an overwhelming urge to snoop around a little, his eyes fell onto the open suitcase on the bed.  
There was an old and worn copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell on top of the pile of clothes. Listening to the water running in the bathroom, Mick took it to his hands to flip trough the pages. He didn’t really care for the book, but there was something about the things David liked, the things David owned that attracted him. And well, it was one of the man’s favourite books after all, he had even written a full eleven track album about it a year ago.  
He opened the book, there was a dried flower pressed in between the pages as a bookmark. It was a daisy just like any other, not even particularly pretty. It was missing a couple of petals. The man was a millionare, he could surely afford to mark his literature in some more efficent way. Maybe it was an aesthetic preference, or perhaps someone meaningful had given him that flower and he wanted to save it. After a moment of flipping trough the pages, he set it back down on the neatly folded button up shirts and trousers, he thought of leaving the room to get some breakfast. He didn’t know if David had eaten already. He probably had, it was already the later side of morning after all. And anyway, the younger man definitely didn’t expect for Mick to stay there and just wait for his return from the shower like that. It was a bit intrusive.  
Shaking his head a bit, sighing, he got up from the bed. But as he went, he stopped on his tracks for a little moment to stand by the piano. His skinny fingers dropped down on the keys, and he started to play the opening of Memory Motel.  
”You're just a memory of a love  
That used to mean so much to me”  
And he thought of how different things were now, he thought of Hotel Café Royal and the Ziggy Stardust farewell party, he thought of how good they had fucked that night. He thought of the year of ’73 as a whole. Felt like so long ago now, even if it had only been two years. It was like a whole another reality.  
And then he stopped playing.  
The shower had been turned off, and he wondered if David had actually just been that quick, or if he had turned it off to hear him play better.  
There was the quiet noise of David stepping out of the tub, and just because he started to panic slightly, Mick turned around to open the door and walk out into the hallway just as he had meant to.  
But before reaching the stairs again, he heard the door creak open from behind him.  
”Is that a new one?”  
”What?” He halted to look behind him, David was peeking his head out from the room, wet hair on his face.  
”The song.” He clarified.  
”Oh, yeah. It’s the one I wrote with Keith at Andy’s. He was thinking of doing the vocals with me, but we haven’t recorded it yet. Later this week, maybe.” He smiled a little, but something about that smile was off.  
”Well, I like it. Can you play it for me when you get back?”  
”Sure. Do you want anything to eat?” Mick wasn’t a polite person by nature, the opposite actually. But being nice to David was something he couldn’t quite control. It was primal, almost coded to his wery being.  
”No, I’m good. Tea, maybe?”  
”Tea it is.”  
And with that, he turned back to the stairs, and by now he didn’t even feel how cold it was in the shadows of the huge house. Because even if he was too proud to admit it, he felt a little warmer on the inside.


End file.
